


Reintroductions

by felicisfox



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, References to Drugs, Slow Build, Slowish, and not exactly recreational drugs, only brief mentions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-20
Updated: 2017-06-12
Packaged: 2018-11-03 01:38:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10957002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/felicisfox/pseuds/felicisfox
Summary: overwatch captures widowmaker, but her conditioning has already started to wear off, and tracer tries to get through to amélie, aka the worst summary everalso i haven't posted any of my writing anywhere for years so uh i'm absolutely terrified go easy on me





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> just a short chapter to start with, again I haven't done much writing (aside from rp) for a long time. no actual Gay Action in this chapter but definitely thinking about writing more. hope you enjoy it even though I am very uncertain about this

Widowmaker looked up at the beep and slide of the door, followed by the gentle clatter of tableware. 

"Oh, um... Sorry, love. Were you sleeping? Didn't realise." Lena Oxton. Great. "Just thought I'd bring you some breakfast, bet you're starving!" Widowmaker watched the girl place a tray on an old steel table. It carried a hot breakfast of scrambled eggs and slightly overdone toast - likely made from bread too stale for anything else - accompanied by a tall glass of orange juice and another of what looked like water; in case she didn't want the juice, Widowmaker supposed. 

_She's too thoughtful._

"Make that yourself?" Widowmaker asked, not bothering to sit up from lying on the couch. 

"Yes, actually. The eggs were supposed to be fried, but, um... you can see how that turned out." Tracer giggled that bright, irritating giggle, settling on the threadbare armchair opposite. Widowmaker frowned. 

"I'm not hungry." 

"Oh... Well, that's okay! You should still try to eat something, though. Or at least have a drink." 

Widowmaker furrowed her brow, studying Tracer's features silently for several moments. She seemed a little uncomfortable, her expression filled with concern. "It's just... you haven't eaten for days," Lena continued before Widowmaker could continue her train of thought. "You keep telling us you don't need to eat much, but you're not on those drugs anymore. Athena's told us your blood sugar levels are low, and-" 

"Why do you care?" 

Lena paused, blinking. "... Sorry?" 

"Are you deaf? _Why do you care?_ Am I not supposed to be the bad guy? Wouldn't it make your job easier if you simply left me to rot in here?" 

It's not often Lena Oxton goes quiet, but that seemed to have done the trick. She stared at the other woman, lips slightly parted, and Widowmaker noticed something genuine in her eyes, and she couldn't help but somewhat bitterly admire (and envy) it. 

After a few silent moments, Lena closed her mouth and looked away, shrugging with a light laugh. "Amélie wasn't a bad guy..." 

"But I'm not Amélie anymore, chérie." 

"You're not Widowmaker anymore either, love." Now it was Widowmaker's turn to be caught off-guard. 

After another short pause, Widowmaker sat up, tucking her unkempt hair behind her ears. She picked up the glass of water, sniffed it, and took a cautious sip. Tracer's expression brightened. 

"It's not spiked or anything, don't worry. That'd be kinda pointless." She giggled once more, and whilst rolling her eyes Widowmaker wondered how she could possibly keep such a peppy outlook on life.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took a while! my brother got married a couple weeks ago and then I went to london for a concert, and at this point I've honestly lost all motivation to continue writing this. or maybe i'm just tired. either way I figured i'd finish typing up everything I had and see if I feel like writing any more, I really don't want to push myself into writing when I don't feel like it, it was only meant to be a means of venting for me.
> 
> either way, I appreciate all the positive feedback I had on the last chapter! thank you to anyone who came back for the second, and I hope you enjoy it <3

Today, Tracer brought with her a breakfast of beans on toast, something perhaps more suiting of her culinary expertise (even if a poor excuse for a meal.) The orange juice had already ran out, Widowmaker gathered by the lack of it accompanying her usual water. Either that, or Lena had decided not to waste anymore of the stuff on her. She felt the latter to be more likely. 

"Is that all?" Widowmaker lay on the couch again, hands clasped over her stomach. 

Lena shrugged, placing the tray down and plopping on her usual chair. "Not like you're gonna eat much of it anyway," she quipped back. 

Widowmaker sat up, stretching her arms above her head. "Maybe I'm hungry today." Granted, she _did_ feel a little better after having eaten and drank yesterday, but she wouldn't dream of admitting it. 

Tracer gave a snort at that. "If you are, it'll be a bloody miracle." 

A slight quirk of her lips was the first sign of emotion Widowmaker showed that day as she sat up. She picked up her fork, tentatively prodding at the soggy toast. "Mm, you're right, this isn't exactly doing wonders for my appetite." 

"Oi!" Tracer put a hand to her chest in perhaps-not-entirely-mock offense. "I put effort into that!" 

"Only you would have to put any effort into producing _this,_ chérie," Widowmaker mocked. "I hope you realise no one outside of the British Isles would ever dream of calling this a meal." 

"Well, sorry if Overwatch's funds don't quite cover a five star personal chef these days. Just eat it already, won't you? I promise you it tastes better than it looks." 

Widowmaker chose not to voice her scepticism, cutting off a piece of tomato-y toast, scooping a few beans on top and taking the bite. It was alright. At least, she didn't feel the urge to spit it out. 

"... Don't the French normally have bread for breakfast, anyway?" Here we go. How is that even relevant? This wasn't bread, this was wet cardboard. Widowmaker almost _(almost)_ felt insulted as she swallowed her bite to respond, her usual look of apathy mercifully untouched. 

"It is not, under normal circumstances, so moist," she sneered, perhaps a little more harshly than the topic warranted. "Or served by a chirpy British girl." Despite the bite in her tone, Tracer looked positively untouched. In fact, she giggled, shifting to nestle cross-legged in her seat. She had no right to be so comfortable. 

"It should be! Would make it much more interesting. And I'd never be out of a job!" She gave another snicker. "The French need to liven up a bit, bread for breakfast? How dull can you get?" 

Widowmaker's cutlery was set down with a sigh, the breakfast abandoned half-eaten as she rubbed her forehead, what little appetite she had had lost. "We don't eat it plain, you-..." She gave another sigh. "Je ne comprends pas pourquoi je dérange... It isn't as though I've eaten like that in a while." 

For the first time since Widowmaker arrived, Lena seemed to falter, eyebrows raised. Apparently she hadn't considered life at Talon may not have been one of luxury. "... What do you... normally eat?" 

Widowmaker shrugged. "What they feed me." 

"Which is...?" 

"I never asked." 

"Okay, but what was it like? What'd it taste like?" Does she ever stop asking questions? 

"Nothing much. It was just... blended _something._ It contained everything I needed to keep me going for the week. Plus some medication, most likely." 

That, of all things, is what made Lena appear hurt. _Stupid girl._ "That's all...?" 

"You mean aside from the pills and injections?" If Widowmaker wasn't so frustrated by Lena, she might be amused. "They slowed my metabolism right down. I barely needed to eat." 

Lena's brow furrowed, concern filling her eyes. _Did she feel_ sorry _for her?_

_Naïve little Lena._

"That's why you're hardly eating now, huh?" she inferred. 

"Mm. That, and I just really don't like you, chérie." 

Tracer snorted, leaning back in her seat. "What a shocker! Widowmaker, the woman who slammed me into a wall, damn near broke my accelerator and dumped me in an alley, doesn't like me. Get the BBC on the line!" The girl only continued to snicker to herself as Widowmaker rolled her eyes. It seemed even the one thing that got to her couldn't keep her down for long.


End file.
